And So Shatters Glass
by eversoslightlymad
Summary: Paris, a girl from the slums, slowly making her way to Hogwarts trying to cover her past from Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron, and all the others. Yes, the summary sucks. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! (And read) LOL!
1. Default Chapter

Perhaps it was the heavy drums tearing through the air, mingled with the scent of sweat and smoke that made her go crazy. The loud guitars wailing in the darkness against the bottles stained blue and red with the flashing lights, alcohal so carefully spilt into glasses of anyone with the cash to pay, all ages. For who, around here, would really bother to check an ID? Perhaps it was the scratched dance floor, the shimmering poles, the sparkling dancers as they spun in never ending circles with their skin a dull gleam against the hard metal.

She watched slowly from the floor, then dropped, one leg bent, one out at a right angle next to her. She thrust her pelvis up, spinning slowly, people beginning to watch as she rose to her knees, swinging her head, and placing her arms behind her as she pushed her chest into the air with the silence of her motions too clear. She slammed back down into the ground as vague mutters of apprasel were heard, then she flipped to her feet, first to her hands, then back to her feet. She watched them all with a smirk that seemed out of place on her pale face, dark blue eyes surveying the crowd as she slammed into the floor once, twice, to cheers. She came back up, spinning on one foot, arms making graceful circles, body riding the beat that made her vibrate, everything about her near surreal.

As she twirled in the dirty air, she swore she could feel the brush of a wing against her face, her guardian angel come to protect her again, to envelope her away from everything, away from the fear of going to her new school, away from her dead mother, her drunk father, away, away, into the darkness that approached ever more quickly...  
  
-----

As she left the club, people whistled, no one knowing her, but everyone remembering her. They admired her body, in it's tight clothing, so common to any female around here. She walked out, closing the door on the throbbing music, feet tapping along to the beat as she walked, occasionally adding jumps and spins as she tried to do a delicate tango.

"Hey, why don't you dance by my bed tonight? I'll teach you how to dance with a real man." Smirked a shadowy figure, the red-orange light of his cigarette gleaming vaguely out of the shadows.

She ignored this comment, trying to act like his footsteps behind her weren't there, until panic began to creep up her throat. How amusing. A feeling she was so farmiliar to, yet it never really lost the sour, metallic edge, almost like blood. She spun to see him, shocked to notice he was a foot behind. She began to jog, then broke into a sprint as she heard his boots slapping the bricks behind her, flying through the alley, dodging urine-stained corners, desperately trying to make it anywhere with more than her and him.

Then the blade of the knife against her throat, his dark whispers in her ear as he dragged her backwards. The gun pressed against the small of her back, his hands in her hair as he kissed her neck, slipping a hand under her shirt. A tear rolled down her shirt.

"Beg for it...scream for me." He whispered.

"Never." Was all she remembered saying before suddenly the gun was in her hand, pressed against his face as he stood shocked, empty handed, the palm pressed against her bra as he drew his hands away, taking two steps back. She could tell she was commanding him to do something, yet everything was blank to her.

He placed his hands behind his head, kneeling on the ground, and the gun followed him all the way down, clicking the safety off. She could smell his sweat staining his shirt, the dirt pooling on his knees as she fired twice, his face no more than a bloody ruin. She held the gun in her hands quietly. Nothing to do now. The police would take her to jail, and pick up the bloody shards of his face, destroy any hopes she had for escaping, most likely kill her in the struggle. One more criminal dead.

She looked at the gun in her hands, felt the bullets that were still in there, not knowing what she should do. She finally started to walk, blood sprayed all down her front, but no one even looked up, assuming that it was just part of her outfit. She ran then, a gentle pace, until she reached a dirty grey river, dropping the gun to the bottom, watching it sink into the silt.

-----

She headed home, into the shabby apartment, avoiding the kitchen where her father would undoubtedly be drinking again. "Father, I'm home!" She called, and got a drunken grunt from the kitchen as she walked down the ripped grey carpeting, the dirty dark grey walls. The furniture in the kitchen was horribly shabby, paled with age. She walked into her room, the room she had made for herself, something so different from the apartment it was amazing. The dark orange cloths she had draped over the walls with staples to hold them up, the cheap pine bed covered in black, everything handmade, with crepe and gauze to disguise everything. The carpet was stretched over with gauze, and she placed everything on her table, one again, covered, taking off her shoes so she could walk across the floor. Methodically she took a metal tray from the wall, her mother's, placing it on the ground with care, knowing what she was doing could kill her if done wrong. She placed some newspapers on the tray, directly in the center, and pulled off her shirt, and her pants, then her underwear and bra, kneeling naked in her room, locking the door. She pulled a bottle of vodka from under her desk, her father's.

She piled the clothing on the tray, hearing sirens, as she opened her window so the smoke-alarm wouldn't go off. She broke the bottle, and let the alcohal drop onto the clothes, then lit a match, and stood back. She took a deep breath, then tossed the match, letting it fall onto the clothing.

Everything went up in flames, burning until there was nothing but ashes and a scorched metal tray. A single ember flickered in the air, falling towards the ground, and she watched it in horror heading towards the fabric of the carpet, and the mesh spread over it. She reached out quickly, grasping it in her hand, crying out as it burned her skin, the smoke hovering in the room, slowly filtering out the window. She let the ashes drop onto the tray from her hand, then picked up the tray and dropped the ashes out the widown, placing it back on her wall. She walked into the bathroom to soak her burn. If she didn't think about the fact she had just killed a man she would be alright.

-----

She walked back into her room, and sat on the bed, letting the cotton blanket crunch up under her hands. She lifted her pillow to hug it, then saw the Hogwarts letter that she had laid there. Could it be real? Could there really be a school?

It would explain everything, all the odd things that had happened, and oh! How woderful it would be...no mean people to taunt her, everyone would be equal, the same, all of the same type and class...

Everything would be better...


	2. Chapter 2

She sent her acceptance back, getting her father to sign was he was fully drunk, slipping his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. She took it, counting out the bills, then taking his credit card, his Visa.

She knew the Master Card was maxed out, and hey, if she could get out of here, she would. She went to the bank in the morning, asking politely to withdraw three thousand pounds, taking the money and following enclosed instructions to where she could buy her school supplies.

She walked into a pub, the leaky cauldron, her black jeans muddy at the hems, white sneakers brown with dust. She wore a dark red sweater, v-necked, delicate, with her silvery hair falling in a shuddering wave down her back to her waist. She walked out back, the bottom of her eyes lined in a dark kohl, making her deep blue eyes look shocked and wide. Her lips were painted a deep red, and she followed someone through the brick archway, watching the magic with wide untrusting eyes.

She walked down the street, and noticed that people were carrying bags of a different currency, the money changing hands at a swift pace. She walked into Gringotts after figuring out what it was, changed all three thousand pounds, and walked back to look around. People jostled her, rushing too and fro, but she ignored them, and slowly made her way down a small street called knockturn alley. Perhaps someone there could help her?

She walked into a dark shop, which looked the largest, gagging at the sight of a human skull in the window. A man with long blond hair, and a boy about her age, fifteen, were talking to a greasy-haired shop keeper.

The boy looked bored, pale grey eyes wandering the shop, then flickering over her with a smirk. She rolled her eyes pointedly, waiting behind them.

The man with long blond hair turned abruptly, cape swirling backwards, slapping her stomach, sending her stumbling, then onto her butt in front of both of them. He looked down on her in disdain, his son already out of the shop. "Watch where you're going, girl." He hissed.

She hated the way arrogance dripped from every symbol, and she brushed herself off as she stood. "You're obviously not the gentleman you think you are if you don't help a lady of any class up from the ground where you caused her to be."

"I have no need to dirty my hands with filth."

"Wash as much as you want, you yourself are the one with an unclean mind and unclean hands, and the filth shall always stick to your bones and soul until you burn in hell's fire." She gave as a repart.

He nodded. "Fine, touche."

She smiled at him with a curtsey. "Sir?"

He gave a low bow with an ironic smirk, watching her. "My lady?"

"How the hell do I get out of this little alley?"

-----

Lucius showed her the way out of the alley.

"Thank you...?"

"Sir Malfoy."

"Malfoy, right. Nice t'meet you."

"What happened to the lady I met in the shop back there?"

"She decided to wander off." She said, looking around her in wondrement.

"Like you attention span...?"

"I do NOT have a short attention span!"

"Of course you do, darling."

"Darling?" She asked, glaring at him.

"Yes, darling. It happens to be a term of endearment."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Oh, really?"

"Shut up, just shut up." She growled. "Hey, can you show me somewhere I can sleep?"

"Well there is the street...which is where it looks like you've been sleeping."

"Oh hardy-har-har. NOT FUNNY MISTER! You suck."

"Suck what, precisely?"

"Monkey balls."

-----

Lucius, appalled, ditched her int he Leaky Cauldron, noting unhappily that Draco had been checking her out the entire time he had been arguing with the girl.

"You don't like her, surely?"

"She's gorgeous!"

"Alright, but nothing special."

"Yes she is! Did you see her hair?"

"Yeah. Your mother's hair is like that?"

"Yeah, father?"

"Oh, shut up. She's rubbing off on me."

"You've only known her for a few moments...!"

"Shut up, just shut up."

"Haha...you're being influenced by a girl..."

"Smartass..."


End file.
